Page 85 of Bloodmoon Ritual

“Behavior has been as expected for a group of sluts whose only purpose is as a warm cunt,” she said dismissively. “But there is one whore who unfortunately deserves public discipline this week.”

Since I was standing next to my brother, it was hard not to see how his lips immediately tightened at this, his face hardening at the words.

Sweat began to run down my back and sides and I desperately wanted to adjust my headscarf, but I was too afraid of drawing attention to myself.

For one moment, I was stupidly hopeful that the ceremony would pass without incident.

Then she spoke again.

“Temperance.”

The world stopped moving for a moment, the slightly restless polite attention to the Enforcement turning suddenly sharper, more aware.

This time I couldn’t look at Rhyder, only feel the change in the air.

“What is her offense?” my brother grated out angrily.

“She looked at me with pride in her eyes,” Generosity said. “She should not do that. She is a whore here for men to fuck.”

“Come here, Temperance,” Eli said. “Holy Warrior, remove your hand. You know this is permitted according to Holy Writ.”

I couldn’t look at my twin, and I moved quickly, suddenly afraid he would object and refuse to let me go.

It was better to take whatever this punishment was and hope that was the end of it.

Although the day was cold, my chest felt prickly with heat, my hands slick with sweat as I walked up to Generosity. She was much taller and I was unprepared for how fast the first slap landed on my cheek, harsh and savage, knocking me down to my knees.

Shit.

I needed to stand up. As always, in the Congregation to be publicly weak was bad, very bad. If I couldn’t get up, other wives might start deciding to punish me, too. There might be other women who had wanted Rhyder, resented the fact that he had always been obsessed with his sister.

But she moved too fast, slapping me again before I could steady myself.

The blow rattled in my head, making the stark land swim around me.

For one horrible moment, I was afraid I would topple forward onto my face.

“Very good,” Eli said. “Whores should not look Helpmeets in the eye. They should be submissive at all times.

Generosity hit my ear, and this time I did stumble forward, only catching myself at the last minute from landing in the dirt.

I felt my face flush, not just with the pain of her hand, but the fear of shame.

I wondered how many people were looking at my brother.

Their gazes seemed hungry.

There was a hungry vengeance in their cold, dead eyes.

How many people were using this to try to punish Rhyder? Eli certainly, and Generosity. But did this go all the way up to the Prophet?

What was my brother thinking now? Was he ashamed of how weak I was?

I had taken punishments before all right, hadn’t I? I was meek and a rule-follower, but it had happened. He hadn’t been angry at me then. But I had been able to stand on two feet and bear it. This time, I had fallen down.

Shame suffused me as blood dribbled down my chin from a cut on my lip.

I heard my brother shift, the old leather of his jacket creaking. Absolute silence was required for all weekly punishments, but I could have sworn I heard his breathing too, the way it rattled harshly in his chest.

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